Act III · The dining room
And the light comes in.
The windows open, and the sea floods the room. The plate arrives in full light.
It all begins over the fire, in the shadow of the kitchen. Every plate will make the journey to the sea.
Every plate makes the journey:
born in the fire, plated by hand,
set down facing the bay.
Behind the dining room, a pan catches light. The brigade works by flame — each to their station, each to their gesture. And it is the morning’s market that writes the evening’s menu.
Nothing here comes out of a freezer — everything comes off the fire.
At the pass, the sauce is spooned over, the tongs set the final touch. The plate is ready — two hands carry it away, and before it, the glass opens.
The windows open, and the sea floods the room. The plate arrives in full light.
On the other side of the glass, La Proue: a handful of tables poised above the gardens, the sea below. The same menu — with the wind thrown in.
A lunch that stretches on, a glass of white, the bay glittering below. Nobody hurries — you share, you savour, and time falls into step with you.
In the kitchen
The menu follows the market. But a few plates carry the signature of the house — let us take you in for a closer look.
La table du chefWhen the sun leaves the bay, the room lights its own flames. The same journey, another light — dinner can begin.
The last guest gone, the kitchen is already thinking of tomorrow's market. The fire never quite goes out — it waits.
In the dining room, or on the terrace as the season allows — tell us when, and we will confirm your table the same day.